Written In Scarlett
by I lost a A Bet To Madara
Summary: Everyone has there breaking point, however, I've taken the plunge with specific degree's of seperation, and in this world, Its, me, myself, and I who stand to rise above it.


IMPORTANT! READ!

Scitz- Its taken forever, but finally I found something satisfactory in regards of how to go about writing this. I've said, this is based on my nightmares, and what I more often than not deal with on a daily bases. So, please, I ask that you be respectful.

Still, Although this is fiction there is some real stuff I used in this story. Some, or atleast most Is based on nightmares and dreams, and to fill the gaps I let a little of myself be drawn down in this. I've had to base it on people I know or met, and yes, although its somewhat cheesy. I am, in a sense, written within this, so please, don't judge. Just enjoy.

This took so long, because I couldn't get the correct format down. I started strong, but always burned out.

A fellow author, she knows who she is, had said to be careful, with things that are apparently redundant on this site. So, I bring out this, I can only hope it turns out well.

This may be the first chapter- But- Remember- I wrote it to be the last. So- pay attention. Close attention. Because I will only do, and say this once. The perspectives come in three's. You're the one's who need to figure out who's talking, because, this chapter won't make sense otherwise.

Also, I need to mention, That although there is a oc involved, this is in no means an ordinary story. I'm not going for conventional, so, I hope anyone that's reading this can understand that. This is not- a insert- into Naruto- kind of story at all. There is no- I repeat- No romance! Between Any Naruto Character and the insert. I hate those.

For all intents and perpouse She-is an IT! Not a who, but a what, if that makes any sense.

Before I do forget- or delete this- I need to say thanks for the advice I got for my rough drafts- and that, Although, I am an idiot, I hope, that in someway someone can read this, and relate somewhat to its contents. If you can, than I've passed along some wisdom. That, is fan fiction's only reward. I write What I feel passionate about- But sometimes, I can't find the words to express it

- So here is the first- and Most likely THE LAST piece of Fan fiction- ILostAbetToMadara- will ever write. Because, quite frankly, I'm a better artist, than I am a writter- case in point- This story. So, as I said before, easy on the flames.

I will also try to explain without giving it away, if someone has a question. it's the least I can do. This story screws with me too. So don't feel bad- Just re-read it- It'll come to you.

Lastly: Some things that may be mentioned in later chapters. I do not own them, the quotes, or even the characters, only the ones I pull out of my ass and put on display.

Sorry this is short- I just didn't want to put too much in the first chapter- Because- this is the middle-to end- chapter- So- Chapter two will do a 180. Backwards. Like I said.

** Entrapment**

Choices. She had many thoughts on that, however, she abruptly came to a halt, a stand still in her mind. As she found her little thoughts and theories becoming rather moot before her.

She then let the notion die off all together, and fade off into the backround. As she sought out another way to occupy the little bit of time she had left, and wondered, pondering just what brought this to fruition? Had she just made a complete circle? Without knowing, exactly how this journey would end. She was growing desperate, she guessed, and the longer she dragged this out the worse it would get. She thought grimly.

Still, in a way, this wasn't the worst of it, because of the fact she had a trump card. Even if it wasn't much, it was still something. She again thought, mulling over the past, as well as the present. As she created a structurely sound foundation in her mind, in regards of recent events. Steming from the very beginning of this struggle, all the way to now. As in, the path she took, to where the fork had begun. She found it peacefully, like writing in a journal, because, atleast now, she knew someone was listening.

Somehow, though, in spite of the chaos brewing around her, and the disgust in the pit of her stomach. There had been a nugget of truth amongst the many lies that made up her little tale, that filled her with she had summed up as one word. Choice. Or rather, Fault, you could say, because regardless of semantics involved, this was, in all seriousness, her fault. This was her cross to bare..

Behind her now closed eyes, the thoughts, and feelings gathered. As she tried, in vain, to push away all doubt, and focus on her conviction.

She wanted to regain what she had lost. To abtain the unattainable. That, though, was a paradox, she thoughts solemly to herself, with a frown.

Still, her thoughts, and feelings were now irrelevant at this point, she still focused them irregardless or relevance. As, it was the only peace she could have, like she had thought. It was all she could do to stave of panic, because, this was a game of chicken, when it came down to it. She needed to hold her ground now, or risk loosing it in the near future.

From the light off to the side, her right side, she tried to ignore the brightness that bored deep into the back of her eyelids. While, struggling to remain completely still to avoid being stabbed by the needle her new found friend was holding.

Being fearful, she took all precautions to avoid injury, while he slowly sewed up the tears in her pant legs. As she stood tall on the stool. He took his time, and her legs her beginning to tire of standing.

He made adjustments, as wells as alterations to the fabric, hoping, to make it more durable, and perhaps more inconspicuous. To make it harder to identify at first glance, which, with his efforts became more of a possibility. No one would look twice at it, then, beable to identify it later. That was the bueaty of it..

Still, she was uneasy, a man with a needle was never a good thing. Even, if he knew what he was doing. She still didn't want to envoke his wrath, so she kept all her complaints to herself. While he fitted her for the last thing she would wear. He was almost like a tailor.

And this room, was set up, to acomadate this, she noted, as she took a moment to glance at the mirror to her left. It was equal to her height, perhaps, intentionally, so she could have a better view, she didn't know for certain.

He would look up ever so often, or mutter to himself about the measurments, or say something off the wall. She could never be sure what he was saying, but, understood that it was best she continue to remain silent. After all, he was the one with the arsonal of weapons at his disposal. This could get tricky, if not painful, if she interrupted him.

Despite the burning sensating in her eyes, she opened them, to glance down at the disheveled mop of hair below, and the man, who she found fiddling the loosely drapped fabric around her shins.

His black gloves shimmering in the brightness of the lamp beside him. While, she let her eyes trail down, she heaved a heavy sigh. He looked like he was nearly done now. She noted mentally, as she tossed back her head, to gaze absently upwards at the ceiling above.

For a moment, she briefly contemplated the possibly of abandoning this, but, again she stopped short. Remebering, then becoming stuck on one word. Bond. She had given her word, and to those who don't understand, her word was her bond.

Her word was her bond. As he, so arrogantly, reminded her. She chose this, for better or for worse. She groaned inwardly, as her eyes drifted to the full sized mirror to her left, and let her eyes wander upwards then down, as she marveled at the wardrobe, in which, she dawned without a word or second glance.

While the man below, whom, meticulously moved his fingers, upwards and down upon the fabric, searching for any and all imperfections he may find. Which, he found none, from what she could tell. He seemed, relaxed in his minstraitions, almost listless as he preceded to tie up loose ends.. It was difficult not to admire his handy work, even, if this wasn't the way I wanted to do it.

Waiting quietly, she composed herself forcibly, while eyeing him; scrutinizing his every move. While still managing to hold strong, with nothing less than an unyielding, contemptuous glare, which fixated on him, felt, almost relieving. Before taking a moment to draw in a harsh, raged breath.

All the while, searching herself, almost desperately, looking for a shred of guidance; knowing fully that in her mind, there was no one, she dug deeply. Digging her nails as far as they could reach, and as deep as they could, inside the caverns of her mind. She struggled, to maintain a sense of calm, while biting back a wry chuckle as the irony unfolded before her..

Somehow, she could feel the full, proverbial weight of the world bearing down on her shoulders, while he takes a momentary break from his task to look upwards, staring at her, almost knowingly from the floor.

She fidgets uncomfortably under the layers of clothing, that he alone had insisted upon. For reasons, that are still unknown to her. He made her wear the garment.

Meanwhile, Knowing, almost too well, the consequences, she still stood in spite of it. Complacently so, while inwardly raging a war that she knows in fact to be a lost cause, still finding time to laugh at her own private joke. As to what her will, would entail, existentially deciding what her will would be.

She manages to find something, more or less to occupy her disheveled mind, finding solace, in the process. She could only wonder, as to some degree, how far her mind has parted, granted, the voices in her head are getting louder. Her head was beginning to ache, painfully, throbbing, to the hymn of what she remembered to be, Hallelujah.

Which, now, seemingly moot as this peace may appear, it had meant the world to her at this point. This last piece of what she had been, and what she in fact was, had weighed heavily on her heart for sometime now, as he pushed this burden upon her. This request, that she found herself unwillingly to concede, had somehow bound to..

For her, Solace was rare if not far in between chaos.

Tonight, may well be her last, if not indefinitely, it would be a milestone in which she cared not to approach once the grave has been marked. Almost like a fortieth birthday, she needn't be reminded that she was over the hill, one could say, but the point is almost too deafening for words.

Still, she took it all in stride, counting this moment. As the blatant disregard for safety continued to elude her. She then, slowly turned her head away, unaware, of the eye that followed her sight.

Somehow, she found the strength, to struggle, and hinder the emptiness radiating from the hole, in which her heart had crawled into, and died in.

Without so much, as a single word, the world appeared to turn on its axes. She struggled, to contain the humor brought on by that thought, but succeeded.

The man before her, although, silent, now posed more than an idle threat, as with each word spoken by him. She could feel his metaphorical claws sink deeper into her.

She tried to see past the exterior, to see the man behind the mask, she wondered, vaguely remembering listlessly what had made her go this far.

She stood on top of an old, decrepit chair, which, although too warn for wear had served its purpose. As she stood upon this pedastil starring down at the top of his head, her blank stare boreing into his skull.

He lowered his head, going back to his work, ignoring her stare, as he debated to what he could say at this point. That he hadn't said already, that is, he too, found the silence fitting for such an occasion.

His attention wavered, almost appearing to be elsewhere, if not farther, than her words along could reach. She thought, to herself, sadly.

Before, the silence was abruptly brought to a halt. Broken, as he cleared his throat. " I hope your listening, I don't care to repeat this, " He chastised, feeling almost redundant with his choice of words. As her head snapped to attention, she tried to look him in the eye.

He knew, in fact, that you couldn't lead a horse to water and make him drink, and in his mind, she appeared no different. Given, what he gathered, to what he knew for a fact, he knew that she would never change.

However, his perception of her would never waver, nor falter. As he saw her as a martyr. And quite possibly, a traitor, to what she had once believed. He still, mercilessly, forced her take this path, but, he knew, even without him as a guide, she may have found herself here on her own. So he wasn't at fault.

He conceded, again, to himself, that although noble, as her intentions appeared, it was in fact vain. As far as his impressions had been concerned.

In the end. She appeared to want what every sane person wanted. Power. The ability, and will, as well, that come with such, however, the ways she had taken had been more or less unorthodox, it was her way of quiet rebellion.

Her image, as a loyal, and perhaps, devoted follower would never change, but, she still retained some, if not all her dignity in this. She took his orders willingly, doing nothing else but what he instructed. He though she knew, to some extent, what this could possibly lead to. He had to admire her, for all that she had done, and to what she would do tonight.

He thought this, to himself wryly, before he went back to focusing on the task at hand. Quckly becoming consumed by the meticulous task, he drowned out the sounds of her breathing, as well as her shaking shins beneath his gloved , he then tapped, to again, to regain her undivided attention..

"I'm listening, Sir, " She coldly responds, struggling to maintain her façade as she stares upwards. He tilts his head, " If so, then repeat, _**everything in **_the _**correct format**_, " He rudely instructs, smirking deeply beneath his mask, as look of panic crosses her eyes.

_Choices. There were many, but when all options cease to exist, the presented path appears to be the one less traveled, thus, little traffic_…

She snorts, and he shoots her a pointed look, listlessly wondering as to what she found so amusing, but he knew he may never know..

_This day, regardless of the atrocity's I alone will commit, will forever be still in my memory. These images will forever be seared in my mindscape in remembrance, for what I have done, and what I have yet to do.._

" Sorry, Sir, I wasn't listening.. My mind was elsewhere.." She admits grudgingly, while he stands straightened, adjusting the fastenings on his coat, " Ah, I thought so. " he chuckles quietly, almost to himself, as she again lets her eyes fade off into the scenery.

_This Inauspicious, and lugubrious, occasion, was of my own making, as he had made note of reminding me, I was, in every essence of the word, His. An extension of his mind and body, a doll, a puppet if you will. And he made it quite clear, as to what I would wear, and to how I should or would act.. In extension to his will._

She didn't care, anymore and he could tell, just by the look she'd given him.

"You Need to stay vigilant, if not, I'm sure you won't survive this, " He reminds her, As he holds out the final touches of her outfit, he remembers something, however irrelevant it had been.

' Its vexing, really, her fighting this.. She's not fooling anyone but herself..' he recalls sadly to himself

With a salient, off putting shake of his head before getting to his feet to retrieve his final present to her.

A hand crafted gift, that he had meticulously carved for her.. And only her.. The effort, was shown in the small details of the bequeathed object that he had waited to present.

This wasn't out of love, or any such, nostalgic feeling, but as a proof of self worth. A token of esteem, on his behalf, and perhaps a keepsake for her to keep when this was over… Atleast, that's how he perceived it. Nothing more, nothing less, you could say. He felt nothing for her, but her work counted as something.

"I understand that, but, how is this supposed to help me? Wouldn't it only serve to attract unwanted attention, instead of warding off prying eyes,?" She questions pointedly. While, glaring down at the offending object with distrustful eyes. As he to, followed her gaze, he could almost see the slow moving cogs in her mind moving while she thought of a more blatant, and offensive terminology to get her point across to him.

" The point, _**Is**_ to _**keep inconspicuous anonymity**_, to remain anonymous in a crowd, with this you are sure to succeed were others have failed, " He responds, flippantly, almost, offhanded, she guessed. As he makes a swift, flick of his right wrist. He extends his hand out to her, while holding a firm grip on the object. That he sought to bequeath to her. While, he inwardly laughed at her obviously conspicuous anger, as seen in her demeanor.

" Tobi- I understand that too but you could have at least gotten a mask that- _**isn't so offending to the eyes**_,?" her left eye twitched as he sent her what she could only think as a perplexed, puzzled look.

"Oh, I know, I know, I'm sure I could have, but- its not as offensive as this-" he smiles solemnly, while simultaneously tapping on the front of his horridly orange mask with one of his free fingers. As if, ignorant, to the horrid coloring, he was otherwise oblivious. Too much so.

Growing angry, She could almost kick him, but she could never gather the nerve. If she had, who knew where her choice would lead her. Therefore, that rabbit hole, would forever remain unexplored,' she thought pointedly, while trying to calm herself. Hoping to silence the blind hatred swelling in her mind, as her stomach churned violently in disgust.

_I wanted to howl, and shout to anyone; everyone, but I realized, my face faulted hard at this all to quickly, because, I had an epiphany. Because, I know, that in space no one can hear you scream, and my mind was no different.._

At this point, in time, she felt it futile to argue with him, when she knew she had sold her soul, atleast, in a way. She could continue to hate him for everything, but, again, the steam that drove the notion died in her mind. Leaving, what she could only see as a complete disregard of conscience, hence, the act, which she sought to destroy in her mind.

The very act, in which, God would never knowingly forgive her for. That this night would pay tribute to, not with standing just the test of time, but standing in spite of it. As she, so remorsefully thought, while dragging her proverbial heals as the moments dragged on.

Fighting now, as she had grudgingly reminded herself, would not only be moot, but futile, as, she was bound not by duty, not pride, only a solemn vow. In which, spoken aloud, bound her to this task, she felt purpose, in this but- hated herself all the same. For, in a moment of weakness, she hand unknowingly brought this down on herself. It, being an act, in which, would shake the founding's of this fair city, and quite possibly, the world in time, as the eve of destruction is now upon us..

Regrettably, her mind had now found it pointed, to wrap itself around the _very last shred of what _she referred to as dignity, and preceded to rub her face in it. Metaphorically, of course, but, still, it was a blow she wasn't yet ready to recover from.

And so, though the choice had been made, she was left to question, almost grudgingly, as to who had made this choice. Had it been her all along? Or had someone guided her to this moment? She may never know, but took solace_, in the fact that after tonight, it may not __**even matter**_.

In the end there would be no one to dispute this, or rather, tonight, she would dawn the mask he held out to her, and take it upon herself to erase every inch of herself in the process of destroying everything she had valued.

Ironic, ' she snorted inwardly, as she remembered everything else, looking back on what pulled her here. What had become of her spite, and pride, even her disposition? As she was stripped of everything, and molded, becoming something, that her heart refused to acknowledge. Had she really fallen that far? Had she just forsaken everything and everyone, in which, left her as nothing more than a shell of her former self? She continued to speculate, quietly, to herself, as she outwardly listen to the man, and remembered exactly what it meant, and what he had meant to her. .

He dressed her like a doll, but, treaded her like a child, while still holding onto something more, or so she thought. That, in which, this final gesture, and what it implied became blatantly clear to her as he held out a gift with a single gloved hand. He appeared almost disconcertingly elated as to what her response would be.

In fact, by the struck look that crossed her face, he could see the impact he had desired. He hid this beneath his mask, while she fixated on it, appearing almost alarmed. He could almost see the ice being forced through her veins as her blood ran cold..

He knew.

With this gesture, it was transparent even. Clearly, in fact, but in spite of it, she couldn't bring herself to voice her opinion. It would only drag her down deeper. She wouldn't sink down to his level. And she hated him for it, but grudgingly excepted it.

This irony. In which, now she dawned, in spite of herself, she wore it. Like a badge of honor, which served as a blatant reminder of her sin. As she let go, she felt herself smile, ready, and willing to take the final plunge.

Scitz- I had to go back and fix this, I didn't notice the grammer errors right away, so forgive me. Hopefully, this version makes more sense. This is the only chapter, that will be so confusing, the rest are easier to read. Hopefully. Also, please enjoy, the content below. As, this is what didn't make it into the chapter.

**-Atleast, she would go out in style- was something that didn't make the cut- for this chapter- like these writing below.**

**As someone had once said to her, 'Actions speak louder than words, in which case, shut up.' If that pertains to this in someway, it doesn't matter. She never understood it anyway.**

**Toys are for children, therefore, spandex is only meant for wrestlers.**

He's a legend, atleast, in his own mind however, I wonder, who died **and who decided to make him god?**

"**Oh-You- God, you are incorrigible~!" She growls angrily, with a groan.**

**Ah, The sweet smell of- finished- Oh, but only the first chapter people. There will be more to come, and if something's off with this- it will be fixed at a later date- So- Play with your pink squirrels- I'll catch you later- Scitz over and out.**


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